


epiphany

by stxrkgazing



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Sherlocktony, F/M, M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25625212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxrkgazing/pseuds/stxrkgazing
Summary: 5 times Tony Stark wasn't enough to be the someone, one time he gave up and accepted his fate to have his best friend only, and one more time he finally found his home.
Relationships: Howard Stark & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Khan Noonien Singh/Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Sherlock Holmes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you think that this fic's title comes from epiphany by Taylor Swift, YES, it does. I was thinking of random stuffs while listening to this song, and I thought about Tony deserved not just better, but the best; and this happened. This is un-beta-ed, written at 3 in the morning and I start to think that was my writing-clock, and... yep, countdown 5+1+1 fic. Enjoy! uwu
> 
> Setting: No Power AU, where Tony is the CEO of Stark Industries and Khan is the CEO of Singh Group.

## 5: KHAN

Tony thought Khan would be different. He thought, finally, he could have it―the family he had been longing for, the love of his life walking side by side with him, together. They would laugh together, love together, might be bickering over lunches or dinners, or which plant or pet they should have, but they would do all of them _together_. Tony thought Khan would be the one, that he could finally settle down and have his family, his _home_. Tony should have known, he should have seen it before. After Stephen, he should have stopped. 

How foolish. 

How naive. 

Tony closed the door the same cautious as when he opened it to give his fiance a surprise visit, along with their favorite cakes. When he turned around, Nyota―Khan’s assistant―was standing with horror on her face, body rigid and eyes widened. She closed her mouth before opening it again, but nothing came. Tony just stared, the realization crawling up slowly. 

_Oh._

“Mr. Stark―” 

“You can have the cakes, or them, whichever is fine,” he interjected while placing down the small white box to the office desk besides the door. 

Tony heard ruffles from inside the room, but he didn’t care. Once he saw Khan kissing someone on his desk while the raven was backing the door―arms wrapping around the other’s body securely, the other’s hands around Khan’s head―them kissing so passionately like nothing mattered but the kisses, the touches, Tony had decided to go home. 

Walking away from the office room of the CEO of Singh Group, Tony made sure he didn’t slow down even just for a bit. Even when he finally heard the doors opened and a very familiar voice called his name (the voice he used to love, used to adore―still, but shouldn’t anymore), Tony didn’t have any intention to stop. 

The elevator doors opened and he quickly stepped inside, closing the doors immediately. He looked up, seeing Khan ran towards him, but the doors closed faster. Tony kept pressing the close door button and the ground floor, waiting for the elevator to went downstairs without stopping at any floor. Tony didn’t need to confront Khan, or ask Nyota, or do any particular thing; he just needed to go back straight home and pack his things. 

He was done. 

Even if Khan didn’t really mean it, he didn’t care. 

Tony was done. 

It was enough. 

He just wanted to feel _okay_.

  
  


## 4: STEPHEN

Meeting Stephen was… magical. They met at the hospital after Peter had a serious accident due to his parkour hobby, and somehow Tony stayed in touch with the neurosurgeon even after his son-figure was completely healed. It was wonderful, because finally Tony met someone that could understand him, spoke the same language with him, adored and cheered him whenever he talked about his inventions―and he did the same whenever the doctor was telling his case-report stories. It was almost like meeting your soulmate, the one that was meant for you. 

Stephen respected him, loved him, supported him. Tony felt like, finally, he was someone. 

Never once did Tony think the day when he came home earlier from the business trip to find Stephen and a white-haired beautiful lady making love in their bedroom. The door wasn’t even closed, and Tony was about to make a surprise so he hadn’t made any sound. Moreover, the love-song music playing in the room was loud enough to deafen other sounds. 

Tony waited in the living room, not doing anything aside from sitting―leaning his back onto the couch. His mind didn’t even wander, more to stay in the static mode. He waited, hearing the moans and the praises (ones that used to be pointed towards him, ones that used to make his heart flutter―but now it just shattered him). 

Stephen and the lady were surprised seeing Tony in the living room, of course. Tony requested for an explanation―he didn’t need any white lies, or anything, he had seen them with his own eyes after all. He just wanted to know _why_. _Why he was never en_ ―

“I’m sorry, Tony. I love you, I do―but―when I’m with Clea―” 

“I get it.” Tony nodded. “I don’t need to hear the rest, I get it.” 

He stood up, leaving the house. 

Then, he sent a message to Stephen. _We’re done. I’ll take my stuff tomorrow._

At least he was the one leaving now.

## 3: STEVE

They were young, still in college, and had all the time to both stress out and have fun before the world of work-only came. Steve Rogers was that one kid who would stand up for any bullies, that would encourage other students to follow the rules and stay humble, being kind to each other. He was the perfect soft and admirable baseball captain, the golden boy with blonde locks and bright blue eyes. Steve was everything Tony could hope for. He was kind, sweet, and cute―the perfect boyfriend. 

Actually, Steve was just perfect, and happened to be his boyfriend, so―the perfect boyfriend. 

Tony had never been that happy, _never_. But also, he had never been that heartbroken either (he hadn't seen the future, hadn't met Stephen and Khan, hadn't known that Steve was just the beginning).

“The best friend that I told you went missing, he was found yesterday,” Steve started, “and, he was my first love.” 

_Tony knew, at that time, he knew._

“I have to take care of him now, I’m sorry, Tony. You’re a great guy, you’ll find someone better than me.”

“Did you ever love me, Steve?” 

“I do.” 

“But you love him more.”

  
  
Steve didn’t say anything, except three seconds later he muttered sorry, that Tony could hate him and he didn’t mind, that―Tony didn’t even listen to them anymore. He just nodded, an automatic “okay” slipped from his lips, and then Steve left. 

Leaving Tony alone, heartbroken and confused. 

He was just a replacement, wasn’t he? 

  
  


## 2: PEPPER

Pepper was clever, strong, beautiful, the epitome of perfection―at least for Tony at that time. She was that one best friend that always made the right life decision, either for herself or the others. She was amazing, and somehow they turned more than just best friends. 

Yet, it didn’t last long. Tony was reckless, he was unstable; a liability mostly to himself. Pepper tried her best to keep the young man on track, to keep him safe even from himself (mostly himself), but then she gave up. One thing that finally Pepper Potts couldn’t handle: Tony Stark. 

Tony went to his therapist, and Pepper didn’t hate him, so, it was okay. 

It was fine. 

  
  


## 1: HOWARD

When Tony was a child, he thought, one day he would make his father proud. He thought building his first circuit board at four years old would be amazing, building his first engine at six would be wonderful, graduating from MIT at 17 with two masters degrees would at least make her father say, “great.”

He was too naive. 

_Too naive_. 

  
  


## +1: RHODEY

“Tones?” Rhodey opened the front door of his house to find the brunette standing silently, head halfway looking down with red eyes. 

Tony slowly looked up, stepping forward in a slow motion before wrapping his arms around the other male’s torso, burying his face onto the broad chest. He was already on the verge of tears, it didn’t take long for Tony to finally sob in his best friend’s arms. 

“Please don’t leave me, not you, Honeybear, not you please.” 

Rhodey felt his heart clenched, but he did wrap his arms around Tony securely. “Hey, let’s just get inside first, okay?”

  
  
He guided Tony in and closed the door, before hugging him back. “I’m not leaving you, Tones,” he said, soft and reassuring, “I won’t, you’re stuck with me forever, remember?”

  
  
“So did they,” he tried to speak without choking up, but it was difficult though he managed it, “so did they, say the same thing.”

  
  
Rhodey was silent for a while, catching up what the brunette meant. Then, he took a sharp breath as the realization hit him. “Khan―?”

Rhodey didn’t need to continue his question, nor hear the answer, because Tony flinching at the name was already explaining everything. He had been with Tony ever since the man was a teen however. He knew when it ended _like this_. 

Rhodey brought Tony to the couch, and they cuddled for about an hour. Tony cried, sobbed, until he was calm again, was about to drift away in Rhodey’s arms. 

“I have you,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I have you and it’s enough. Should have known it from the start.” 

Rhodey didn’t answer, but he tightened the hug. It was enough for Tony.  
  
  
  


## ++1: SHERLOCK

They met at a murder case, one that was at Peter’s school. Tony thought how the boy was always around dangers, but he didn’t think further about fate or anything else; that wasn’t just his life―not anymore. He heard about Sherlock Holmes, of course, the detective just like how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote. Still, Tony didn’t think about fate. 

Even after he and Sherlock somehow became friends, co-workers (Tony thought solving crimes was fun, and made him forget about his pains. He joined Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson), partners in crime (they worked together just fine, and both of them had no family to be worried about, they were free). Tony didn’t think of them further than that, nevertheless. Because, that was they were―colleagues. That was it. No more, no less. Yet, he had to admit that Sherlock was, despite a sociopath diagnose, a funny person, interesting, a lovable friend. 

They exchanged messages, and most of them were short. Some of them were funny, some of them were sweet, but always short. 

Tony didn’t remember when it turned into a phone call. 

He didn’t remember when it turned into afternoon strolls at the park. 

He didn’t remember when they moved in together. 

_“Flatmates, Platypus. I’m not young anymore, and I can’t keep bothering you and Carol no matter how happy you two are seeing me.”_

Each day with Sherlock was fine, some days were predictable and some days were not. They argued, they laughed, but they stayed―like best friends.

  
  
There were times when Tony had this little thought in his head, that he finally found the missing piece of his soul, of his life. That he finally had someone to call home, truly his own home without sharing it with anyone else. However, he had learned so many times―he better not to hope. 

It was one day, when the clock was ticking around twelve, and Sherlock wasn’t home yet. They were handling a case, and this time was John's turn to accompany Sherlock, and Tony took his days off to clean their flat that almost turned into a chaos. Tony didn't know whether the two were simply finishing the case, or, other reasons. A part of him telling himself that Sherlock was finishing the case to its fullest, despite the short message in the morning saying _a bit more, and voila._ The other part of him... whispering things.

  
  
Tony waited at the couch after after a calming bath, not doing anything in particular. He was just sitting, waiting, listening to the ticking sound. Until it was almost one thirty in the morning, and Sherlock still wasn't home yet. The familiar acidic feeling crawled up from the pit in his stomach, spreading slowly to his chest, to his arms, to his fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, Tony stood up and went back to their bedroom. He thought, _so it's about time._

And so, Tony was ready to wake up alone in the morning, or to find a Sherlock who waited to tell him that their days were over. Whichever was the same.

(He wasn't, but he was used to it)

* * *

It didn't happen. 

When Tony gained his conscious back in the morning, he felt a familiar warmth engulfing his body, and arms around his body. He blinked a few times, looking up to find the detective’s peaceful sleeping face. Sherlock was beautiful, and Tony had always known it. But now, at this moment, somehow he looked even more beautiful. He counted the seconds, trying to wrap his mind. He could feel them―the steady breaths, the casual arms around his waist (he just realized he was holding Sherlock too), and their tangled legs. He just didn't get it; _what?_ or perhaps, _why_?

_Why was Sherlock here?_

_Why was Sherlock holding him like usual?_

_Why wasn't he alone?_

_Why was Sherlock sleeping peacefully like this, with Tony in his arms, like he loved him?_

_Why_ ― 

Oh. 

Tony's brown orbs were still locked on Sherlock's face, when he slowly blinked and something warm flickered in his chest, spreading through his body even to his fingertips―he could almost taste the sweet unbelievable relief on his tongue. Tears rolled down on his cheeks, and soon it turned into muffled sobs. He closed his eyes, looking down and trying to hold back the tears while resting his forehead on Sherlock's chest; feeling the other's heartbeat. 

_Is this it? Can he finally say, this is it?_

“Anthony?” Sherlock’s voice was raspy from waking up, but the concern was distinct. Tony opened his eyes again. 

“Anthony, are you alright?” Sherlock continued, wiping the tears with his thumb gently. “I apologize, I must have worried you. The case was almost finished, and I pushed a little bit―I’m sorry, it still doesn’t justify my absence―”

“You’re still here.” Tony blurted out, looking up. 

Sherlock, once saw the teary brown eyes before him, realized what Tony had been implying, and what Tony had been crying about. A few names crossed his mind―fast, along with the faces and their backgrounds. He remembered them perfectly, and for a moment he was angry―until Tony shifted, cuddling closer to him. 

“I’m not leaving, Anthony, you’re my soulmate; I have told you that once, and I would be happy to keep reminding you everyday. I’m not leaving, never.” Sherlock cradled Tony’s head to his chest, while the other arm held him tight. 

Tony nodded, still holding Sherlock tight. 

It was a familiar line, of course. The other three said precisely that same four words as well. Yet, this time felt different―while Tony didn't know why he felt like he could trust this one, he just knew that he did. This time, he trusted that Sherlock would never leave him.

Sometimes, or most of the times, Tony didn't really understand what they meant by _soulmates._ Still and all, Tony didn't think of it as a matter, because―

Sherlock was still here, 

hugging him, 

holding him dear like he was a treasure, 

and,

it was enough.

_More than enough_. 

He was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlocktony is the fluffiest I said what I said.


End file.
